Love's A Killer
by FrodoFever
Summary: COMPLETE The movie never really gave the full story of Samara before she died. What was her life like living with her parents, how did she feel? R&R please, thank you, really appreciate it.
1. Chapter One

/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter One

"I hear many whispering, 'Terror on every side! Report him! Let's report him!' All my friends are waiting for me to slip, saying, 'Perhaps he will be deceived; then we will prevail over him and take our revenge on him.'" –Jeremiah 20:10 (NIV)

"For jealousy arouses a husband's fury, and he will show no mercy when he takes revenge." –Proverbs 6:34 (NIV)

"Richard?"

Anna's voice echoed in Richard's small office that he kept and was often in. The man sighed and turned the chair around so he could face his wife. Richard wondered what it was about this time. It was always about that wretched girl that Anna called their daughter. He didn't want Samara. He had never wanted her.

"What is it that you want, Anna?" Richard asked exasperatedly. He wasn't in the mood for more of Anna's pleading and begging.

"Could we please let Samara move into the house? It's not right that she has to sleep in the barn. You know what she said at the last appointment, she can't sleep because the horses keep her awake," Anna said.

Richard sighed. "Anna, darling, you know what Samara is. She is something of an inferior. You know there's something wrong with her."

"There would never have been anything wrong with her if you'd just love her like a father should and treat her like a human!" Anna exclaimed.

"I am NOT her father!" Richard shouted, standing up and slamming his book that he had had in his lap to the ground. "I am not related to her. She is just a girl that we're doing charity to. Samara is lucky that she has a home at all. She's lucky she gets the toys that regular children have while they grow up."

Anna's lower lip quivered. "What were all those months that I had her in me? What was that if she wasn't my child?"

Richard could feel the heat rising to his face. He knew Samara was his child, but he never wanted a child. He didn't know how to raise a child, give love to one. That's why he always saw his young daughter as a pest, something like a part of the background. If he could've had his way, Samara would've been at the orphanage by now, but no, Anna loved the child and had always wanted one. So his daily life now consisted of fighting constantly on the raising of the girl.

"I am not saying that she isn't YOUR child. I'm just severing my ties that she's related to me. I WANT her related to me," Richard said.

"Dear Lord, Richard, she IS related to you, whether you want her to be or not. At least let her have a room in the house. What if something happens to her in that room and we wouldn't have any idea what was happening before it's too late?" Anna asked.

"Well, then we'll know that Samara is a klutz and know what she's different from everybody else."

"She's not different from anybody else!"

"Then what about those weird pictures that she's been creating, hmm? How do you explain those?" Richard wanted to shout out to his wife, but managed to keep it in a strained calm.

"I don't know, but all I'm asking you is that you treat her like a loving daughter—like she's the best thing you've ever had in your life. Maybe it could change her and we wouldn't be paying medical bills," Anna shot at Richard.

Richard didn't answer. He was eyeing the doorway, for it had darkened. The shadow behind his wife was the figure of a small girl—Samara's size. Why did that wretch girl have to come in here? After all, he had ground rules that Samara wasn't allowed to come into his office, if she came in the house at all.

Anna noticed that Richard was eyeing the door and turned around to see what he was staring at. Her eyes brightened as she saw Samara in the doorway, staring up at them. Anna loved her daughter with a passion and tried to do everything she could to make Samara's life enjoyable, but it was rather difficult with Richard forbidding Anna to do everything a mother should do for her child.

"Samara, darling!" Anna rushed over to the tiny girl and giving her a kiss and a hug, she placed Samara on her knees. "What is it that you want, Samara, dear? Do you need anything?"

Samara looked up into Anna's eyes and it seemed that mother and daughter sat staring into each other's eyes for the longest time. Richard almost stormed over them to pull them apart and send Samara back off to the barn. He was startled when the girl finally spoke.

"Daddy doesn't love me, does he, Mommy?" she asked.

Anna looked up at Richard before answering. "Of COURSE daddy loves you, dear. What makes you think otherwise?"

"Because he said so just now. He thinks I am crazy, that's why I go to see the doctors. He doesn't want me here," Samara said.

"Your father doesn't know what he is saying. He loves you from the depths of his heart and wants the best for you," Anna assured her.

"Then why do I have to sit on a chair in a white room and answer questions?"

"This is absurd!" Richard blurted out. Anna and Samara looked up at him. "This is totally unacceptable. We do not talk about you being there, Samara. All little girls go there and answer questions until they know what's wrong and then they try to treat it."

"Not all little girls go in and sit on chairs and answer questions. I see them all walking down the street with their mommies and daddies and they are happy. They don't go where I'm going," Samara said.

"Because you are different, Samara. They're trying to figure out why you are different, child. That's why you have to go in and sit on a white chair and answer questions," Richard said.

There was a long silence and nobody said anything, everybody just stood there staring at everybody else. Richard shifted feet uncomfortably. He hated Anna and Samara's stares. The piercing, unblinking ones that made you feel like you've been in their stares for eternity.

Finally, Anna broke away from the stare and had Samara look into her own eyes.

"You are not different, Samara. Just remember that and don't let anybody else tell you differently. If you'd like, you could go to school and be with all the other little children your age and you could be happy," Anna stated.

"What is—school?" Samara asked brokenly.

"School is where you learn to read and write and learn history," Anna told her.

"But why do I have to go there when I can learn that from you?" Samara asked.

Anna sighed. This was going to be more difficult than it actually was. If Samara got the idea that it was something else that she was forced to do, she was going to become sullen and the teachers would think her disturbed, have a parent conference and suggest that they place her daughter in a special classroom—or worse, a special school. Then Samara would become even more withdrawn. Anna couldn't let that happen to her daughter—she wanted Samara to be normal.

"Wouldn't you want to be with other little girls your age and be happy?" Anna asked.

Samara sat in silence, thinking before answering. She had to think this through. If she went, the others would think her different, but if she DID go, it would make her mommy happy. Samara always wanted her mommy to be happy.

"OK," Samara finally answered. "I'll go to school, Mommy, if it'll make you happy."

"Please don't do it to make me happy, Samara. Go because you want to go and because it'll make YOU happy," Anna encouraged.

Samara nodded. "OK, Mommy. I'll go because I want to be happy and it'll make you happy too, Mommy."

"Alright, then, child. You can go to school. Run along now, your daddy and I will straighten the details out for you."

Samara nodded again and slipped off Anna's knee before going out the door, going downstairs into the depths of the house.

Anna stood and wiped her hands. She glared at Richard as if to say, Samara's going to do this whether you like it or not before slipping out the door after her daughter. After she left, Richard slammed his fist into the palm of his hand angrily before bending down to pick up his book and sit back down.

Author's Note: Here's chapter one and I hope you all like the story so far. I'd appreciate it if you'd review, it makes me feel special, laugh out loud.


	2. Chapter Two

/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter Two

Samara sat on the edge of the loft, looking down at the horses below, singing softly. She didn't like horses; they kept her awake at night. They scared her, all the shifting and moving and never resting, even while they were asleep. She wished she could sleep inside with Mommy; she would never let anything happen to her baby girl.

The barn doors open and a flood of light entered the barn. Samara squinted against the bright light and when her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw that it was daddy. What was he doing here? Was he coming in here to take care of the horses, or was he coming in here to yell at her?

"Samara, are you in here?" Richard called out.

Samara silently climbed down the ladder, carefully hiding in the shadows. The shadows were her friends; they protected her from things she didn't like—they gave her an advantage over things such as her father. Maybe she could catch him off guard like she had done the other day when he was trying to find her.

"Samara? Where did you get off to, you wretched girl?" Richard muttered to himself.

Samara crept in the shadows to her father. His back was pointed towards her; he was looking the wrong way—he was always looking the wrong way. Bad things happened if you were looking the wrong way.

Richard felt something staring into his back and he whirled around, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw Samara. He narrowed his eyes, showing his anger toward the girl that he felt no love for. If only he could get this girl away, to an orphanage, anywhere.

"It's time to go see the doctor, Samara, do you understand that, wretch?" Richard asked.

"The doctors. The ones who make me sit on a chair in the middle of the room and ask me questions that I don't know the answers to. Then they leave me there for hours and hours for some reason before they come back and sit me on a chair again and ask me questions," Samara stated.

"It's all for your own good, Samara. I want to help you, girl, to make you better," Richard said.

"You don't love me, do you?" Samara asked.

"Child, I love you," Richard said with an obvious strain in his voice. It took a lot of effort to say those words to this girl, "you must understand this. I want to help you, not hurt you."

"You don't love me. You never loved me, Mommy does," Samara said.

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. You know that I love you," Richard exclaimed.

"No, I don't."

Richard sighed exasperatedly and grabbed Samara's hand and dragged her outside along. He couldn't take anymore of Samara's garbage. She was just about to go on his last nerve, no matter how hard he tried to love the girl.

"You're going whether you like it or not, Samara. And you've got to realize that if I didn't love you I wouldn't have gone through all of this trouble if I didn't love you," Richard told her.

Samara didn't answer. She never answered him when he went into his lectures. She knew he really didn't care for her and probably would never will no matter how much he tried to love her for Mommy's sake.

As they approached the car, Samara saw Anna standing nervously next to the passenger's side of the car. When Anna saw her daughter, she broke into a wide smile and rushed over to Samara, bending down to give her a hug and a kiss. Samara didn't move or show any emotion, she didn't know how to respond to this kind of love and affection. She probably would never know, considering that her father overpowered any kind of love and affection that her mother tried to give.

"Samara, darling. You know how much I love you, don't you?" Anna exclaimed.

"Yes, Mommy, I guess," Samara said.

"You guess? How can you guess? I love you with all my heart and soul," Anna said. "If I could have it my way, we wouldn't be seeing the mean, crazy doctors."

Samara looked up at Anna. "I know, Mommy."

"Well, then, why did you say 'I guess' for?" Anna asked.

"Because she's a stupid wretch, that's why. Now let's get going, I don't have all day. I've got horses to take care of and exercise," Richard exclaimed impatiently.

Anna sighed. "Come on then, Samara, get into the car."

Samara silently opened the door and climbed into the back seat. She silently put on her seatbelt and listened to Richard slamming her car door for her before going onto the other side and climbing into the passenger seat next to Anna.

Samara didn't really like the doctors. But her Daddy makes her go, whether she liked it or not. She thought this as they were driving down the road. The radio was on a talk show station—Samara really didn't know what the talk show was about or who it was, though they said it all the time before they went to the commercials, or when they got back from commercials. Mommy tried to explain the whole art of music and talk stations to Samara, but she never really understood it. Maybe that was why she was different, because she didn't understand stuff. Or maybe because it was her daddy refusing to let her fully understand anything.

Finally they pulled into the parking lot of the huge, forbidding building. As they pulled into a parking lot, Samara felt a sense of dread wash over her. It was time for the white chair in the middle of the white room with the doctors dressed in white coats trying to figure out what was wrong with Samara. They felt for sure there was something wrong with her, they just haven't figured it out yet. Maybe they would never will.

Richard and Anna got out of the car and Richard walked around to open Samara's door. Samara just looked up at the man with fear in her eyes. This was the moment of truth and Samara didn't want to get out of that car, because that meant the beginning of more suffering.

Richard stomped his foot impatiently. He couldn't take any more of this garbage from this girl.

"Get out of the car, you wretch. I don't have any time for your prattling and slowness," Richard nearly yelled at the girl.

Samara slowly got out of the car and Richard slammed the door behind her. Anna gently took Samara's hand and the two of them followed the angry man towards the hospital's entrance doors. Samara had to go in and there was no going back now.

A/n: Thanks to Darkdragon207 for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it and I hope you continue reading this. To others, I hope you'll continue reading and review, it makes me happy -.


	3. Chapter Three

/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter Three

The room was white, too white for Samara's liking. There wasn't anything in the room that wasn't white. Except for maybe Samara's shoes and the doctor's clothes under his white jacket. The room didn't even show it's dirt, it was so clean—somebody must have had a lot of time on their hands to be able to keep it this white.

The doctor was sitting at a white table with a bunch of papers and a pen and pencil. Samara didn't know what they were all for, she never knew. All she knew was that they had something to do with her or she wouldn't be sitting here on this chair in front of him.

"How are you today, Samara?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," Samara answered.

"You don't know? Now I know that you know that 'I don't know' isn't an answer, Samara," the doctor said. "You've got to know whether you're feeling alright or not."

"I don't know if I'm alright or not."

The doctor seemed to be getting frustrated. The doctors here were always getting frustrated and Samara didn't know why. She also didn't know why they had to get frustrated when she didn't know the answer to a question. They all expected her to know all of the answers, but she didn't.

"Let's look at these pictures again. I know you made them, Samara, because you told me the last time you were hear. Can you tell me this time how you made these pictures? How did you make them?" the doctor questioned further.

"I don't know."

"Come Samara, you must have known how to make them since obviously they are created here. What did you use to make them?"

Samara thought this was getting stupid. She didn't know how she made them, she thought them and they just became. They were all created from her mind, that's how she made them.

"I don't know. I think them and—they just are. I don't know how I made them," Samara stated.

The doctor fell silent for a few minutes, making notes on his papers. He always did that after he tried to argue with Samara about the pictures. The look on the doctor's face showed frustration and a little anger. Samara knew that the doctors didn't like her here, but they always said that they were here for her. They always said they were trying to help her, but they were always tired of trying to figure out what was wrong with her. But Samara could say the same for them. She was tired of coming here and trying to tell them that what she was telling them was true.

"When can I see Mommy?" Samara asked.

"As soon as you answer all my questions truthfully, Samara. Your parents love you, child," the doctor said.

"Daddy doesn't love me. He doesn't see," Samara stated.

"Your daddy doesn't see what, Samara?" the doctor asked.

"He just doesn't see. He never sees."

"His vision is perfect, child," the doctor exclaimed.

"Not that kind of see. He just doesn't see. I don't like him," Samara said.

They didn't get it, they never did. Her parents and the doctors always wanted to be right and they always wanted her to be wrong. Why couldn't she be right for once?

"Not like that. He doesn't see. He doesn't understand."

"What doesn't he understand, Samara?"

"Everything."

Silence filled the room again as the doctor scribbled down words as fast as he could. Samara never knew what he was writing, but whatever it was, it was about her. Probably that she was something crazy and needed more treatment. But Samara wasn't crazy, she never was. She knew this and her mother backed it up, reminding her every day that she was crazy and wasn't any different than any of the others. But if she wasn't crazy or different, then why was she here, forced to sit upon a white chair in the middle of a bare, white room being asked questions, then locked up in solitude for hours before coming out again and have the same routine with the chair?

"I think that will be all today, Samara. I think you're doing extremely well right now. You'll be back home in no time at all," the doctor said with a smile, standing up and giving his hand to her to take a hold of.

Samara took the hand warily and followed the doctor out of the room. The doctor's hand felt clammy, cold, and uninviting. It wasn't like Mommy's, whose hands were warm and comforting.

Samara followed the doctor down the cold, bare hallway. She didn't want to go to the bare room with nothing in there but a bed and a chair. The doctor paused at the door that was Samara's room and pulled out the keys, fumbling for the one that fit the lock. He finally found the right key and slipped into the lock, opening the door into the uninviting room.

"In you go, Samara. Don't worry, there's nothing in there. You'll be all right, trust me," the doctor stated.

Samara stared blankly up at the doctor blankly and the man shifted uncomfortably. The girl always had that antagonizing stare and it made anybody have the creeps. It was as if she could see right through you and know your worst fears.

"Are you going in, Samara?" the doctor asked.

Samara slipped into the room without a word and the doctor shut the door silently behind the girl. He locked the door and left with a sigh. He didn't have to look at her for a long while yet. He'll let the others take care of her until then.

Samara walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, staring blankly at the wall opposite of her. She was going to be in here a long time and there was no escaping it. She wished Mommy were here; she always protected her little girl and made her feel safe. Samara flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She soon fell asleep thinking about going back home to more misery and the comforts of her mother.

A/n: Thanks to those who've reviewed my story. Keep reading and I'll keep writing.


	4. Chapter Four

/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter Four

She was home again, back to the horses and her father degrading her. Samara looked up skeptically at the barn with her parents standing on each side of their child. After several moments, Samara turned and looked up at her mother.

"Do I have to go in there?" Samara asked, knowing what the answer was going to be. She knew they were going to yes, she had to and that she had no choice in the matter.

Anna looked desperately up at her husband. She couldn't take this anymore, her daughter having to stay in the barn by herself and being scared with no motherly or fatherly love. But all Richard gave her was a cold, stern look. He was giving Samara any leeway because he was the man of the house and what goes, went.

"Samara, sweetheart, you have to go in there because that's your bedroom. I know how you feel about the matter, but we don't have any room in the house for you," Anna said.

Samara stared up at her mother. "Mommy, I love you. I think you love me, too."

"Of course I do, sweetie, why would you doubt me?" Anna asked.

"Because if you loved me, mommy, I wouldn't go to the white room, and I wouldn't live in the barn where the horses keep me awake," Samara stated.

Richard looked around at the barnyard, pulling his cloak around him tighter. His gaze drifted off towards the pasture where the horses were grazing. How could such gentle animals be torture and agony to a person? He didn't know and he really didn't want to.

Anna crumbled to the ground in front of Samara. "I'm sorry, Samara. I can't help it; it's all so stressful. But I have to obey your father, like you have to obey him. We're both in the same boat."

"I understand, Mommy. He doesn't like much of anything," Samara stated.

Richard had enough. He strode over to Samara and slapped her hard across the face. The girl fell down and quickly scrambled up again and backed away. Richard breathed hard, feeling his anger welling up in him.

"Don't you dare say that, Samara!" he yelled. "That's not true—nothing you say's ever true. Maybe that's why the doctors have enough of you and I hate you so!"

Tears welled up in Samara's eyes. How could he say this? She should expect something like this from the man, but it still hurt nonetheless. Her life was miserable because of him.

"Now, go to your room, Samara. I don't want to look at you another moment," Richard said, glaring at Samara.

"I won't!" she yelled and turning on her heel, she ran as fast as she could past the barn and deep into the fields past the horses, disappearing into the distance.

"Samara!" Anna called out, sobbing and began to get up, about to follow after her daughter before Richard grabbed her on the shoulder.

"Not yet. Let her make her think that she's safe for now—and then, we strike," Richard said in a low voice.

"What are you saying?" Anna whispered. "What do you mean, 'we strike'?"

Richard forced Anna to look up at him. "All these long years I've put up with her and I don't think I can handle one more day with her."

Anna's eyes widened as she realized what Richard was meaning to do. "You can't, Richard. Please, no. I've wanted her, I've waited long years for my own child and you can't destroy her."

"If you love me, you will do this for me, Anna. Don't I have more love than you give to your daughter, Samara?" Richard asked.

Anna fell silent, thinking. She loved Richard, or at least, she thought she loved Richard. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she loved Samara more than she ever did for her own husband. But did she have any other choice? How could she save her own daughter? But what was the point, when her daughter was suffering at the hands of the man?

"Do you or do you not love me more than Samara?" Richard repeated.

"I guess my only option is yes, I do love you more than Samara since you'll do nasty things to me if I say otherwise," Anna stated.

"You're right. At least you'll have your horses. Now, wait here a moment," Richard exclaimed and went to the car. When he turned around again, he was holding a black trash bag.

"What's that for, Richard?" Anna asked, with a horrible sinking in the pit of her stomach.

"What do you think it is for, Anna, dear?" Richard said.

Anna turned her face away. "To kill my daughter."

"That's right. Now I want you to go find Samara, and I'll be several hundred feet behind you to make sure that you do your duty. Will you fail me?" Richard asked.

"No" was the simple answer and Richard nodded in satisfaction. He was finally going to get rid of this girl once and for all.

Samara's voice was ringing out through the fields while she was looking down into the well. She was singing a song that Anna had sung to her when Samara was little and still did sometimes.

Anna watched the girl for several minutes. She was so innocent, standing there in the sunshine with her white shift dress and her long, flowing black hair down past her waist. Anna had always loved that hair and was sickened that she would never see this beautiful little girl of hers anymore.

Anna walked quietly behind her daughter and placed her hands on Samara's shoulders. Her daughter stopped singing immediately and Anna wished that she hadn't.

"That was beautiful singing, child. I used to have that same beautiful voice as you. Maybe you'll continue you on and become famous someday," Anna said lovingly.

Samara had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was something wrong here. Mommy never sounded like this, so—constricted. What did she want? Hopefully it wasn't on the behalf of her father, because her father never meant well.

The sunshine was too bright; way too bright and only one or two birds still continued singing. Something wasn't right.

"All I ever wanted was you," Anna whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. "All I ever wanted was you."

Quickly before Samara could react, Anna whipped out the plastic bag and held it over Samara's face tightly. After several minutes, Anna quickly pushed her daughter down the well. It was done and Anna turned away from the well, her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her dear, beloved daughter—gone and Anna were unable to protect her anymore.

A shadow blocked out the sun and Anna looked up to see Richard standing over her. He had a grim smile on his face, one of grim satisfaction. As she looked at him, Anna couldn't help but feel blunt hatred for what he had made her do to her daughter.

"It is done and you did the right thing, Anna. No more bills for the doctors, no trying to feed her—nothing. It's over now. Do not worry, wife, she's in a better place now," Richard said and he went over to Anna, wrapping his arms around her. "How about we go out for dinner tonight?"

Before Anna could answer, he clasped her firmly on her shoulders and led her back to the house to get cleaned up for town.


	5. Chapter Five

/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter Five

Samara clutched her hands in pain. Her fingers hurt, especially where her fingernails used to be. Try as she might to get up out of the well, all she succeeded in doing was tearing her nails off and resulting in uncontrollable bleeding and excruciating pain. And the water didn't help much because if she put her hands in the water for a second, her fingers would sting and a new wave of pain would encroach her.

Samara huddled in the corner of the well. She was scared and she wanted Mommy here with her. But then, if Mommy had loved her, Samara wouldn't have been pushed down the well. What if it was all Daddy's fault? What if Daddy told Mommy to do this horrible deed? But then, Mommy did it willingly and Samara felt a new burst of anger towards Anna.

Samara immediately felt guilty about the feeling and huddled as close to the wall as she could. It was so cold down here and there was absolutely nothing to keep her warm. She never knew how cold it could get down in a well, but then again, Samara had never been down in a well before.

"Mommy!" Samara wailed. "Help me, Mommy!"

But there was no answer. Absolutely none whatsoever—did she really expect an answer? No, not really. Nobody was going to help poor Samara Morgan anymore. Not Mommy, definitely not daddy.

Samara looked up at the top of the well. It was nighttime now and she could hear the wolves howling and the owls hooting. Samara shivered. She didn't like any of those noises when she was out here by herself. She didn't know if she hated these noises worse than the noises of the horses or not. At least Samara knew the horses couldn't get to her way up high in the loft.

"All of this will be remembered for eternity," Samara whispered to herself and the words echoed against the walls.

She didn't know how long she had been down there in the well. It seemed like eternity and Samara wished it would all end so she could be put out of her misery. By the seventh day of being in the well, Samara's eyes closed forever as she slipped out of sight under the water forever.

For days on end, Anna didn't do anything. She sat on her chair next to the window in the living room looking out across the fields in pastures. Richard was beginning to get worried about his wife. After all, she couldn't deny that everything suddenly seemed to be better for not just them, but for everybody who was on the island. But ever since Samara was killed, Anna had been in a dark, depressed mood. Richard wished he could do something for her.

One evening Richard stood in the doorway, watching Anna silently. This had to end right now. He couldn't stand Anna in this mood for one more moment.

"Anna, love, don't you want to go riding on the horses with me? You love riding and it will get you out of this mood of yours," Richard said.

"I don't want to go out riding. I was just thinking about Samara. She would be playing with her dollhouse right now. Or she'd come out here and ask for me to play with her," Anna said.

Richard laughed in frustration. "Anna, come now, Samara's been dead now for over two weeks. Nothing's going to bring her back. Why not get on with your life? I am."

Anna stood and turned to face Richard so fast that he stumbled back in surprise. He hadn't seen so much movement from her since the day Samara died. Why the sudden change?

"You had no love for her, Richard Morgan. If you loved me, you would've loved her the same. Why, you sent me to the same place you sent her, but what good did it do? Nothing. You will remember this for all eternity," Anna shrieked.

"You've gone mad, woman!" Richard yelled, scared of what she might do.

"I have not," Anna said in a whispered. Then reaching into the deep folds of her dress, Anna pulled out a tape. It looked like it was a homemade one and it looked like one of Richard's.

"Where did you get that at?" Richard asked in wonderment.

"It doesn't matter where I got it from, Richard," Anna said tonelessly. "I want you to have this. Keep it and when you get the chance, show it to other people so they know what has happened for all of eternity. It can never be destroyed unless there's another copy made. Everybody who doesn't do so, doesn't see the truth…will die."

With that, Anna walked towards Richard and handed him the day. Richard took the tape from her, staring at his wife. Something was happening, but Richard couldn't pinpoint it and deep down in his heart, he knew that Anna was telling the truth.

"Seven days," Anna said. "Goodbye, Richard."

And with that, Anna ran out the door. Past the fields, the pastures, barn, off the place forever. Soon Anna came to the edge of the island. The water was pounding against the rocks and Anna looked down into the treacherous fury.

Anna sighed and looked around her. She hoped that she would see Samara in heaven if she did this. With a deep breath, Anna spread her arms open and let herself fall. Anna hit the sharp rocks below and she knew no more.

Richard stuck the tape in VCR and began watching it. The stuff on it was so horrifying that he cried out and backed away from the TV. Finally the tape was over with and Richard ejected it with a sigh of relief. Talk about a good horror show. Just then, the phone rang and Richard walked over to it and picked it up.

"Hello? Richard Morgan here," Richard said into the phone.

"Seven days," a voice whispered on the other end and Richard slammed the phone down in horror. So what Anna said was true. He hurried and grabbed his coat, and then grabbing the tape, he headed outside towards the car. He wasn't going to die if he could help it.

END

Author's Note: Well, this is the last chapter. I know this story's short, but I can't really make any more chapters for it. I hope you all like it and continue reading my other stories, though I don't have anymore 'The Ring' stories.

Thanks to those who've reviewed.


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